


Muse

by booksandboxsets



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, Gallavich Week, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:02:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksandboxsets/pseuds/booksandboxsets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey had come across some of Mickey's old sketches, with Ian immediately deciding that he would get Mickey to draw again if it was the last thing he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muse

**Author's Note:**

> gallavich week: day one - together  
> didn't get this done on time yesterday, damn revision.  
> this is just drabble resulting from boredom, so sorry for any mistakes/general crappiness.

"C'mon Mick, you're good, you should get back into it."

"Shut the fuck up I'm good, these are shit."

Ian and Mickey had come across some of Mickey's old sketches, with Ian immediately deciding that he would get Mickey to draw again if it was the last thing he did. 

"Then do some better ones," Ian replied.

Mickey rolled his eyes and gave Ian the middle finger. Whilst he couldn't help but admire Ian's determination, he was coming ever closer to punching him in the face. Having gone round in this circle for at least 10 minutes, Mickey desperately wanted Ian to give up on this new mission of his.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Ian finally admitted defeat, retreating out of the room and leaving Mickey alone. Ian Gallagher backing down from getting something that he wanted, _huh, that was a first._ Mickey couldn't help but feel slightly proud of himself, usually unable to ever get Gallagher off of his back, usually giving the younger man whatever he asked for. But of course, Mickey had been fooling himself, the moment of triumph being very short-lived; Ian had only left the room to go and find some paper and a pencil. He seemed to think that bringing the appliances to Mickey would inspire him somehow.

"Oh, go and put that crap back," Ian answered by shaking the paper in front of Mickey's face and prodding his stomach with the pencil. Mickey inadvertently let out a small chuckle, despite trying his hardest to look pissed off. 

"See, you love it," Ian set the equipment down on to the table, proceeding to pull out a chair for Mickey. He acted as if he was presenting his boyfriend with some kind of exquisite dish rather than a blunt piece of lead and a square of card, waving his hands towards them impatiently, "c'mon, your masterpiece awaits."

"Man I've told you enough times, I'm not fucking drawing again."

"Why not?", Ian seemed genuinely confused by the prospect, unable to understand why someone would refuse to do something that they clearly had a talent for.

"Don't need a reason, I'm just not, you go ahead though Picasso."

"I can't draw."

Mickey's eyebrows raised up, "yeah, neither can I."

"You can though, don't even deny it," Ian picked up one of the sketches Mickey had done ages ago, some kind of tattoo idea if he remembered correctly, "you can not even begin to say that this is bad."

Mickey remained silent, still not used to Ian's compliments. Ian looked into Mickey's eyes, a small smile starting to make its way onto his lips, "I know what the problem is, you don't know what to draw." 

"I don't know what to draw?" Mickey didn't really know why he was suddenly letting himself fall so easily into Ian's trap, perhaps he secretly did want to draw again. He made sure to add a considerable amount of sarcasm to his next sentence, attempting to hide his arty desires from Ian, "why don't you give me something to draw then if you're so sure that's the problem."

"Really? You'll draw what I tell you to?" As per usual, Ian saw right through him, and the hopeful, puppy-dog look he was giving won Mickey over. Ian Gallagher truly was an asshole. 

"Shit," Mickey sat down into the chair, picking up the pencil and looking up at Ian, "go on then, fetch me my flowers or bowl of fruit or whatever."

"No fruit," Ian's expression started to become apprehensive, unsure how Mickey was going to react to his next suggestion. He was only half serious but fuck it, might as well try, "draw me."

Mickey ran his thumb across his bottom lip, looking back at Ian with disbelief, "what you trying to pull some Titanic crap now? Wanna lie out on the couch in nothing but a necklace?"

"If the artist requests a lack of clothing, I'm more than happy to abide" Ian said whilst pulling his shirt up and over his head, his confidence returning as he took a seat himself and got into some kind of pose.

"Nope. No fucking way, I'm out," Mickey threw the pencil down and attempted to stand, but before he could even lift his ass out of the chair, Ian had pushed him back down.

"Hey you said you'd draw whatever I told you to," Ian ran his hands down his bare chest and abs, reminding Mickey of back when Ian used to work at the Fairy Tale. He decided that Ian had way too many weapons at his disposal for just one guy, including the self-satisfied tone in his voice, "this not good enough for you?"

Mickey roamed his eyes down Ian's form, buying himself some time to come up with a complaint.

"Nah, too good," the smug look on Ian's face died down a bit, replaced with questioning one. Mickey sighed before going on to explain what he had meant, "how the hell am I meant to focus on drawing your body when there are a million other things I would rather be doing to it?"

If Ian's methods of persuasion were considered weapons, his next move was the nuclear bomb,"well you're banned from doing any of that stuff to my body until after you draw it."

Ian smirked, knowing that he had broken Mickey's resolve. He watched the older man bite down on his bottom lip, shaking his head as he picked the pencil back up. Mickey seriously hated Ian sometimes.

* * *

Twenty years later and Ian still had the sketch of himself, it was framed a long with several others of a similar fashion. Over time Mickey had realised that Ian was, in fact, the perfect muse.


End file.
